Raindancing
by kwizera
Summary: Cloud is a lonely teen. Leon is a lonely teen. What do lonely teens do? Why, they create yaoi, of course! If you can't make the rain go away, at least you can dance in it.
1. Thunderstorm

**Pairings:** Leon times Cloud equals fun!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned SquareEnix, all the characters would be on a lot more crack and sugar than they already are. And the females would all go away so the males could have their parties outside of the closet. So no, it is not mine (yet!).

**Dedication: **To Setsuntamew, for getting me addicted to fanfiction and yaoi (to the severe detriment of, you know, any social life or good grades that I might have been wanting to have . . . ever). And to Dualism, for writing the fic that first addicted me (SGW).

So, this is my first ever fanfiction. Basically, whether it gets finished, or if any others ever get written, depends on if anybody wants to review. So . . . if you read it, write a comment, even a word or two, and this will keep me updating. If not, it's been fun! :)

* * *

It was raining the night they met. A hard, driving rain, of the sort that no reasonable person would go outside in.

Cloud Strife had never been called reasonable.

Drops pounded down blond hair, flattening messy spikes and making wet cloth stick to skin. Great sluggish beasts of cars stumbled down the street, trailed by a small shadow leaping after, from puddle to puddle – laughing like a madman – outpacing every one, then returning to challenge the next.

Cloud Strife was in his element. Only he could appreciate the rain. Nobody else would go outside tonight; they were all too content in their warm beds. To him alone this was happiness – to dance all alone, to run and jump as the sky kept him cool, slick, cloud-drenched. He always felt as though he was living his name.

If only he really was the only one in the street.

"Hey!" the stranger protested, as Cloud, in the middle of a particularly spectacular movement, twirled straight into him; then over him, unable to stop. The tall shape extended an arm to catch himself on the pavement, which was twisted away as Cloud's weight fell onto him. The two fell to the sidewalk in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Oops", the little blond murmured, blushing bright red against streams of rain. He attempted to untie himself from the long limbs of the stranger whom he had just steamrolled. "I, um, I'm sorry . . . I totally wasn't watching where I was going."

One Squall "Leon" Leonhart, resident creeper and suspected "there's something odd about that guy" of the neighborhood, stared up at him from underneath.

"Ack!" Cloud leapt off the trampled body. "I – uh – I – " his senses took total leave of him for a moment, off to some safer brain. His mouth kept going all the same: "Please don't sell me for drugs! I promise, it was a mistake. There are better ways to make money! I can be an asset to my community!"

Leonhart stared up at him complete and absolute confusion. Slowly, the tall man raised himself to his feet, using his umbrella as a prop. At full height, he towered over Cloud, who cursed his parents (not for the first time) for giving him such miniscule genes. Yup, the adolescent concluded. He had better wave his organs goodbye right now. He was doomed.

"What's your name?"

Cloud blinked. Then stared. "I'm sorry?"

"Your name," the stranger repeated with a little impatience. His voice was very deep. The blond suddenly realized that he had never heard Leon speak before, despite the fact that they had lived on the same street for years, long enough for Cloud to know his face and name on sight. The timbre did something odd to his bones.

"I'm Cloud. Cloud Strife."

Leon nodded. Then, without preamble: "Do you always dance in the rain?"

Cloud wasn't sure what to respond. Did this guy want to know more about him so that he could stalk him? Not that the "creepy stalker" rumors were necessarily true. People just saw a solitary person like Leon and had to make up something plausible. The blonde knew; it had happened to himself often enough, though usually others saw him as an abandoned child or some such. True enough, he had seen Leon looking at him oddly a few times when they passed on the street (Cloud always moving as far as possible to the end of the pavement. It wasn't that he had anything against Leon in particular, it was just . . . the rumors, and he was so damn imposing). But that didn't prove anything.

The silence had stretched on already too long. It couldn't hurt to answer one simple question, right?

"Yes? I mean, I do. A lot of the time. Whenever it storms."

Leon made no response, just stared at him. Cloud fidgeted. After a second, he began babbling, just to fill the silence. "I mean, I – I really like the rain. It's soothing, you know? Not that – I mean – you would know . . . you have an umbrella . . ." he shut up, embarrassed. Leon was still looking at him.

After what seemed an eternity, the older boy moved. He threw aside the umbrella, which had been held between the two of them, stopping the rain for them to talk. Now the storm poured down on both of them. Cloud noticed, for the first time, that Leon had never once seemed tense, even through all the awkward silences. Only now did his body tighten – like a lion, or a panther, the blonde thought.

Then Squall Leonhart smiled, and something inside Cloud jerked a bit, like an odd fish on a too-tight string. "No. I like the wet too. Race you."

He said everything in the exact same deadpan tone, so Cloud didn't realize the meaning of that last phrase until the brunet had already taken off. Leon was five paces ahead by the time his shadow launched.

"Right!"

"This is my apartment," Leon mentioned, as the pair raced past half an hour later. They had gone all up and down the block, and several further streets beside, but appeared to be fairly matched. Leon had longer legs, Cloud more energy.

"Yeah, I know", the blonde said, without looking up. He ran a few steps further before he realized that Leon had stopped.

"Tired already?"

"No," the brunet muttered, a strange look on his face. "How do you know where I live?"

"Well, I, uh . . . "

Cloud shifted. Now he was the one that sounded creepy. "I watch you, sometimes. I know you're still in high school – I've seen you in the halls; you're a senior, right? You have upperclass English in the room next to my locker – but I've never seen anyone else come out of your house. It's just . . . I just thought it was odd. Plus, I mean, we live on the same street. It's not like I would never have seen you around," he defended.

Leon was silent for a moment. His green eyes were fixed on the short boy, who could not meet them for more than an instant. As always, Cloud was not expecting it when he finally spoke.

"Not many people come out of your house either."

"My parents are business people," the small teen defended. "They travel a lot."

"Leaving you alone?" the question was personal, but not probing. Leon's voice was surprisingly gentle.

"Sometimes," Cloud muttered. He would never tell the brunet that this was the reason he had watched him before – it felt as though they had something in common, something mutually absent, that nobody ever left their houses and nobody ever came in.

The pair stood there for a minute, neither looking at each other. Cloud felt odd. He didn't talk about his family, not ever, and certainly not to a near-stranger like this.

"So!" Leon broke the silence. "If we have so much in common, how is it that we've never met before?"

"I thought you were a stalker," Cloud blurted out.

Awkward silence.

Leon raised one eyebrow. After a moment, the other joined it.

Then he laughed, and the sound made Cloud laugh too. Once started, the tremors seemed unstoppable, and they giggled until they could hardly stand and had to lean against streetlights for balance. It suddenly seemed impossible that Cloud had ever found the brunet scary.

Leon looked at the little teen, still smiling. "Hey. You're all wet. You're going to catch a cold."

"I never get colds," the blond started to demur, but Leon already had his arm and was towing him away.

"Too bad. Come inside!"

* * *

It was warm inside Leon's house. From the doorway, Cloud surveyed the TV room and kitchen – warm, tiny, and familiar, he concluded. Everything there felt like the brunet: all spare and functional, but at the same time aesthetic, calming. Cloud had only known the man for half an hour, but that much was obvious, just from his speech and the way he dressed – and what, the boy wondered, was up with all those belts? It wasn't as if his pants weren't tight enough to stay up by themselves. More than tight enough.

It was also obvious that, as Cloud had thought, no one else lived here. Leon's utility was the only style; only his coat hung on the rack, and there was only one chair at the table.

The boy suddenly wondered if Leon were lonely. He must be. Why else would he have bothered to race a short, unknown sophomore through the rain?

"Hey." The senior in question waved a hand in front of Cloud's face. Cloud jumped.

Leon touched his shoulder, guiding the sky-eyed sixteen-year-old across the room. A strange shiver ran down his spine from that hand. "You really are going to get sick," the older youth commented, reaching over into the bathroom next to the kitchen door to throw a towel at him. "That would be a problem."

"Why?" Cloud asked, genuinely curious.

"Nobody there to take care of you."

The blonde looked up from drying his hair. Leon was staring down at him, an oddly soft look on his face.

"I'm used to it." Cloud turned away – before he would have had to think about why Leon's expression made him feel so mushy. Concern annoyed him, not made him feel like a preteen girl at any hint of affection. When the tall boy turned his back, reaching for a towel of his own, Cloud, curious now, examined him for the first time.

Leon was at least six feet tall, perhaps 19 or 20 years old. Too old to be a senior – maybe he had started late? Or had been held back a year? He looked very fit: not like a weightlifter, but like someone who did a lot of sports. Cloud recalled seeing his name on a school roster for the fencing club – back when he had been considering sports himself; back when his parents might have been able to give him rides; that had been a few years ago – but Leon probably still fenced. He definitely did some sort of training: very few normal people could run fast enough to keep up with Cloud.

The object of scrutiny was rubbing his hair at the moment, drops of water falling down his face. The planes of bone under slightly-tanned skin were angular, sticking out at the elbows and edging up to green eyes under straight eyebrows. He looked a bit underfed, Cloud noted dispassionately (wondering why he cared). But there was something attractive about that face. It drew him in.

Leon turned, and saw him looking. That same soft smile again. "Warmer now?"

"Yes," said Cloud, but he shivered again in spite of himself, and did not know why.

Leon had gone to make some food. He had left the younger boy free reign of the house. This was why Cloud was in his bedroom.

If anywhere, the bedroom would probably be the only place in the house with some real Leon-personality in it. So (the blonde concluded) it would be the best start for him to figure out why he liked the solitary youth so much, despite that he barely knew him. And he did sort of wonder if the dude owned any clothes other than black leather and the pelts of dead animals – not that he wanted to rummage through Leon's clothing. That would be weird. Enlightening, but weird.

So far, though, the bedroom had not been accommodating. Leon was just so damned _neat_! Where were all the clothes scattered over the floor? Where were the CDs of boy bands that he could deny ever having liked? But no, Leon's bedroom was like a museum, one with very obsessive curators. Even the posters on the wall (Good Charlotte and Star Wars – that one made Cloud laugh) were hung perfectly straight. The only "Leon" the blond could feel came from the brunet's desk.

This, at least, was a little messier. Pencils and folders scattered the wood. Obviously seniors had a lot more homework than sophomores. Looking at the strings of mathematical problems and Latin questions that covered the desk, Cloud suddenly considered graduating early to become a garbageman . . . or a very bad artist . . . one book among the many caught his eye, breaking into those imaginings. It was thinner than the others, and had no title on the cover, just a matte black book-jacket. The blonde couldn't resist a look.

_Thin pages crackled as the pretty mechanic turned over each leaf, unable to resist a look. She stopped at random somewhere near the end of the most recent entries, ears pricked for any sound from outside. The page was covered with elegant cursive._

"_Dear diary", she read, "today I was pompous and my sister was crazy. Today, we were kidnapped by hill folk never to be seen again. It was the best day ever."_

_Kaylee closed the book. She felt confused, and a little guilty. Did Simon really feel as though this was a good day with the ship's crew? He must really hate it with such an uncivilized bunch. And what did this mean for them? Did he feel the same about a grease-stained mechanic like h – "_

"Uh," a voice boomed from behind, and Cloud jumped a foot. "Gah! Leon!"

The taller man gently reached over and took the page from his hand. "That's, um, that's not finished yet."

Cloud turned around. Leon was holding a bowl in his hand, filled with what looked like chicken noodle soup. There were two spoons.

"What is it?" the blonde asked curiously, not to be distracted by the sight of nummy food. Leon was more interesting anyhow.

The gray/green-eyed youth's sober cheeks tinged with red. "It's a fanfiction . . ."

"What, really?" Cloud stared at him. Leon did not seem the type to write fanfiction. At all. Ever.

"Yes," the man responded, defensive. "It's a good show! And since they cancelled the series, it's not like they're continuing the storyline themselves . . . "

He fell silent. Cloud stared at him for a long moment. The OCD fashion-consultant-dress-alike liked to write? Maybe there was more to the taciturn senior than he had thought.

All of a sudden, Cloud realized that the two of them were standing very close together. He could feel the heat from Leon's body; and Leon wasn't moving.

It became very hard to breathe. All the blood rushed into the boy's pale cheeks: why didn't the brunet move? Or why didn't he want to move himself? He couldn't bring himself to look into those odd-colored eyes. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the chest in front of him. It was very flat. Probably muscled . . . Cloud felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to reach out and touch –

_What! _The blonde leapt away. "I, I, I should probably go to bed now. I mean, go. It's late."

Leon looked surprised, even – disappointed? But he stood aside to let Cloud pass. The small teen rushed out without even saying goodbye.

Out on the street, Cloud knelt on the pavement. It was still wet, and smelled clean and pure, cleansed by the rain. Usually Cloud felt the same way after a storm. Relaxed. Cleansed.

This time he was just confused. _What was that? It felt so . . . odd . . . why was I blushing? Why did I want to – gods, I'm even weirder than I thought _he_ was!_

He buried his face in his hands. For some reason, all he wanted was to go back and feel that heat again.

* * *

The lock clicked gently, letting a shadow inside. Everything was quiet in that house – soft, in the grey wash of twilight through picture windows. It was much nicer than Leon's house: much larger and better decorated, if not more clean.

Looking at the peaceful chairs and photos, the vacant doors and bookcases, Cloud suddenly remembered why he went to dance in the rain. Again and again, every time the thunder roared.

His shoes made the only sound on the wooden floor. The blonde moved forward slowly. Something inside him felt empty, and it wasn't leaving Leon that caused it.

Above the mantelpiece, a picture caught his eye – a small boy with hair like sunlight, standing with a brown-haired woman and stern-eyed man on the edge of a mountaintop. The boy's eyes were gleaming with deep blue happiness.

Something snapped inside Cloud, some essential strand that left a sharp pain where it should have been. He took the photo with shaking hands. Made no move to save it when it slipped from his fingers, falling and tumbling until it hit the ground with an echoing crack. Glass littered the fashionable parquet.

Cloud stared down, eyes unfocused. He could still see a glint of white from the portraits' teeth, stretched in happy smiles; the gleam of sun from a little boy's hair. Long hair, before it was cut and spiked in a futile attempt to be fashionable, to be what others wanted of him: pretty hair to earn him friends, friends to fill the gaps where things that had once existed no longer were.

The silent house was mocking and cold. Cloud could no longer remember the sound of raindrops on pavement, the exhilaration of thoughtless dance. Everything faded away into the dark grey of another night. _Loneliness_, the boy remembered. _The darkness has a name._

And suddenly he remembered footsteps and laughter in the last drops of daylight; a smile bright as the pictures'. A warmth that reached inside him and felt like the touch of a friend.

Cloud reached down to gather up the shards of glass, not noticing the blood that flowed when one cut his hand. He remembered a house that was empty, yet filled with light.

He suddenly missed the confusion of grey-green eyes.


	2. Mist and Fog

**Chapter 2**

Disclaimer: same as the first chapter, will be same in the last chapter (unless Square Enix comes to my house and elects me Supreme Leader of Video Game Paradise *daydreams*) . . . so just flip back to Ch. 1 if you feel the desperate need to read about how I don't own any pretty pretty protagonists.

I was planning on posting this in a few days, since the editing was going slow, but it's going up tonight in celebration of the silver medal my varsity lightweight double (2-person crew boat) just won at the Midwest Scholastic Rowing Championships! Last ever race, first ever medal. I feel it deserves a fanfic :).

Dedication: To **Emmi Rayne**, whose review (as promised) kept me writing! Thank you so much! ^^

More reviews get Chapter 3 up. Also, I am getting pretty discouraged about the pace of this story, so I would REALLY appreciate any comments or suggestions about how to make that or anything else in the writing better . . .

* * *

Leon needed no alarm clock to wake up in the dark. It was nearly two years that he had risen at 5:00 every morning, before the sun had even begun to think of dawn. Both years that he had been living alone.

1024 Pioggia Drive was almost silent at that hour. Almost: Leon had learned to listen very carefully in those few tired moments before he dragged himself out of bed, not wanting yet to move. Today, as ever, the night tuned up around his ears. First he heard the soft creaks of the house settling, and the ticks of a typewriter as Yuna upstairs finished an all-night essay. Then, somewhere outside, a chorus of sleepless birds began practicing. Crickets churred and rustled. A raccoon knocking over a garbage can formed sharp percussion. Everything was discord and movement, until his ears adjusted to the common melody, and then it was all just life.

Leon pushed the covers aside and slid himself out of bed. Yawn. It was only habit that kept him waking up this early: that and the knowledge that as soon as he actually started his routine, he would feel much better. But reason was little comfort at 5:00 AM. The sleepy brunet stretched with an unconscious grace, then began to wander over towards the closet. Something on the floor tripped his foot. Leon stumbled, and caught himself against a wall; the movement brought him into sight of the mirror across the room.

Silvered glass showed no more than a tall shadow in the moonlight, broad-shouldered and muscled, with a mane of night-dark hair. Leon ran a hand over his chest. _A little too thin of late,_ he thought to himself. With no one else in the house, it was easy to forget about dinner . . . his fingers as they moved felt like the brush of hair. That blonde yesterday, Cloud –

He pulled his thoughts away, slightly disgusted. As if he should be thinking about a _boy_ in that way – let alone one he barely knew, let alone a kid like Cloud. Time to wake up.

Ten minutes later saw Leon in the former bedroom at the back of his apartment. He'd had no more need for the bed, after – well, when there was no one to need it anymore; so he'd left that on the curb and cleared out the entire space, leaving only a floor and four walls. Now he sat in the middle, hands over knees, eyes lightly closed. The sound of his breath filled the room like waves. The boy's chest and legs were covered by a loose sort of uniform, like a karate gi but without any insignia.

After a minute Leon moved. He stood – without ever opening his eyes – and came to heisoku dachi, the formal attention stance of Japanese karate. _Mawate_, Leon thought to himself, making the smooth turn. Arms came forward naturally in front of the face, legs taut and tensed. His face was as motionless as a stone.

Slow and formulaic, the youth completed the first katah. _Zenkutsu dachi. Gedan barai, mae geri, mawashi geri_, his mind completed as he bent, blocked, kicked front and side; turned and started again. The words were familiar from the four years of karate he had taken after quitting fencing, when he had no longer been able to get a ride to and from the studio and had had to choose somewhere closer by. The smooth rhythms of practice in the dojo had drawn him in: a blend of power and potential, asking no questions apart from "can you focus your mind into this moment". Leon could. Now karate was his free time and his job. It earned him money as a teacher, and renown as a master of katah: the kicks, blocks, and punches that made up a karate "form".

_Basai__**, **_the brunet whispered to himself, starting the final katah. With every move he imagined a deep ocean filling him, becoming him, engulfing him whole.

* * *

Leon got to school early that morning. His classes didn't begin until 9, but he often went to work in the library for a while, before the day began. It beat sitting at home alone.

Today he walked past the entrance to the library without realizing it. For some reason, this morning, he was more distracted than usual – despite the karate practice, visions of deep ocean-blue kept catching his thoughts. There was a second way into the library, though: a teacher's entrance (and no one was around this early in the morning to see). The brunet slipped inside.

Ismuth High School's library had a rather unusual setup. There was first a main desk near the entrance, where the librarian sat. Behind that tall bookshelves rose in semicircles down a long, thin room, with many protrusions off the sides for different sections ("Psychology", "Economics", "LOLz" – the librarian was barely out of high school herself). The parts looped around and twisted into all sorts of shapes, which dead-ended and doubled back and intersected over a ridiculously large area, so that even Leon had never been able to explore it all. Students had been known to get lost in "Romance" for hours before finding their way out (though since a disproportionate number of these confused ones were couples, it may not have been entirely unplanned).

Leon had been into the section behind the teachers' door only once. It was a small alcove, part of the shelves on "Fiction": no more than a space between one bookshelf and the next. He strode forward without looking – and almost tripped over the body collapsed in front of him.

The brunet barely held back a curse of surprise. He hunched down to check the shape in confusion, dropping the book in his hand (Fyodor Doyostevsky's Crime and Punishment), worrying: had a student passed out? Or was it some sort of library robber, victim to one of the librarian's more zealous traps to protect her domain? It took him a second to recognize the pink cheeks, thin limbs, and slightly-smushed, sand-colored hair.

Leon's heart made a strange sort of jump. The boy in front of him – stretched out on the ground between two shelves, and pillowed on a backpack – was snoring lightly. Asleep, just asleep; somehow he was infinitely relieved. The deep blue eyes (_the color of the ocean_, something inside him breathed) were covered by long, sun-bleached lashes, nearly white at the tips. He saw for the first time that Cloud had freckles on his cheeks.

Leon knew that he should wake the sophomore up. He was Cloud's friend (although they had only met once, he knew instinctively that they would be friends soon, if they weren't already – they got along too well). As a friend, his first priority should be to find out why Cloud was sleeping on the floor of the library, instead of in his own bed. But the blonde was sleeping soundly, and Leon didn't want to disturb him. Something in the shape made him want to look closer.

Leon bent down. Every detail was clear and perfect, like the sound of crickets at dawn. He wanted to feel the texture of that cheek. He wanted to see those eyes looking into his, and watch again the brightness in the boy's quiet smile. He wanted –

The senior leaned down and, gently, lightly, brushed his lips against the blonde's own.

* * *

Cloud Strife woke when the first bell rang. He felt stiff all over, as if beaten in every muscle and bone. It had been a long night. One AM, by the time that he had moved to the library, to get away from the shadows in his home; but he had not fallen asleep until nearly three. His eyes could barely stay open. School was going to be hell . . . the sophomore yawned and sat up, reaching for his backpack. He stopped the hand midmotion.

There was a book lying close to where his head had been. Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Doyostevsky. It wasn't his.

Cloud picked up the volume and opened his mouth. He wanted to call out to see if anyone was there, explain why he had been sleeping on the floor (using, as always, some facile excuse – perhaps that he had gotten to school early and been taking a nap?). But when his lips parted, he paused.

There was the strangest sensation on his lips. It was as if someone had touched them, or – or kissed them. There was the oddest taste, when he touched his tongue to the skin, like coffee but sweeter and more subtle. It wasn't a bad feeling, either.

Cloud picked up the book. Whoever had left it, he would find them. Then he could give back whatever they had given to him.

* * *

Squall "Leon" Leonhart was _not_ a stalker. Honestly and truly. He was just . . . a little obsessed.

The senior leaned against the wall, resisting the urge to bang his forehead on the off-white paint, as he watched a certain spiky-haired blond cram papers into his locker across the hall. Yeah, that would work: great line, _obsessed_. Cloud would really like that. He would also love the fact that his "definitely-not-a-stalker" had stolen a kiss from him that morning. Leon could imagine the scene: "I couldn't resist! I was watching you sleep!"

The fact was, Leon couldn't stop watching the short, slender sophomore, no matter how hard he tried. So far he had followed the boy from his locker to his first class (English, where Cloud had dropped his books and Riku had picked them up – while Leon nearly bit through his pencil with NO IT WAS NOT JEALOUSY); back to the locker (Cloud had stopped to talk to a friend. Leon had imagined himself as that friend. A crowd had gathered to ask Leon why he was making such odd facial expressions. Leon had escaped to the bathroom); from there to three other classes (coming tardy to his own hours as a result); and now, finally, to the cafeteria. Here at least he could watch the blonde without interruption.

Leon entered the room alone. His friends were sitting at the far side of the cafeteria, already with full lunch trays and distant looks on their faces.

Ismuth High's lunch room was organized like that of any other high school. The jocks sat in one corner, the preps in another. In between were the readers, the drama geeks, and the "weird" kids. In the center sat the popular dudes. Scattered throughout the rest of the room were the "unclassifieds", in their various degrees of social strata, ranging from cool to social suicide. Then there were a couple of other easily-labeled tables – which Leon had never bothered to identify, not caring much about the cheerleader-eat-cheerleader class wars.

Cloud's seat was with a low level of unclassifieds. Everyone in his group could be placed in a different way. There was Aerith, the arts geek (a singer and master cellist), Sephiroth, the sexy jock (who brought his own groupies to the table), Zemyx, the school's "cutest alternative couple" (Demyx and Zexion, both juniors, but since they were never separated it was easiest to call them by their pair-name); and other individuals of various talents, including the popular Kairi, wanna-be artist Naminé, and ADD senior Larxene, who was in a number of Leon's classes herself (much to his terror).

Leon had noticed that, among these, Cloud really didn't have any close friends. Even before today, when he had observed the table only by passing glances, he had never seen the blonde talking to anyone but Kairi, who was impossible to ignore.

Leon himself sat with a very different group. His friends were more of the "strong and silent" type. Riku, Lulu, Roxas, Saïx, and Tifa all did sports and didn't talk much: lunchtime was usually a quiet but companionable affair. There was little conversation between the seats, yet important stuff somehow always got around; and in case of trouble there were always five faithful heads to turn to.

"Leon?"

Then again, sometimes he wondered if it might be more fun to have a group like Cloud's, all laughter and drama. Or to be in Cloud's group. Maybe sit right next to the spiky-haired sophomore, arm occasionally brushing his, eyes meeting across a crowded room –

"Leon!"

The brunet jumped. Tifa was staring at him. "Yes?"

Tifa was smiling. This was not a good thing. Last time Tifa had smiled like that, she had "noticed that Riku was looking at Sora rather often. Did Riku like Sora? Did Riku want to do unmentionable things to Sora's anatomy?" Did Riku want to turn Tifa into a lot of tiny little observant bits?

That had been a fun day. Lots of screaming, lots of flying food and attacks with plastic knives. _And Riku and Sora now living together in a penthouse in Sunset Strip . . . _sighed some portion of his brain.

_No!_ Leon shook his head, goosebumps rising on his skin. Tifa couldn't know that he liked Cloud. _He_ didn't know that he liked Cloud. Did he like Cloud? Did wanting to do unmentionable things to Cloud's anatomy mean that he liked Cloud?

The senior lost himself for a moment in thought. When he looked up, Tifa's smirk had gotten wider.

Uhoh._ Don't say_ _"Leon, I noticed that you were looking at Cloud". Don't say_ "_Leon,_ _I noticed that you were looking at – "_

"Leon, dear! I couldn't help noticing that you were looking at Yuffie," Tifa said, grinning like a vampire.

_What?_

"What??" Leon yelped. "I wasn't looking at Yuffie! I was looking at – " he glanced over again in the direction of Cloud's table. Yuffie? He barely knew the girl. She was a junior, on the volleyball team. She was –

She was standing on a table.

Leon's sentence stopped in his mouth. He watched the scandalously-dressed teenager as she whooped and gyrated, apparently re-enacting some funny event from – he squinted – Health class? Or was that a petting zoo? Oh God, she was about to slip on that tray; she was going to fall flat on her face!

Leon had already started up, instinctively, before he realized that Yuffie was leaping down. Her foot had missed the tray by an inch. The senior breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to his own table.

Tifa looked highly amused.

"No," the brunet quickly defended, "It's not like that. I wasn't – I thought she was going to – Yuffie – "

"It's okay," the pretty cheerleader breathed. "I understand, Leon. And I will help you in your hour of need." Tifa leapt up from the table and disappeared.

She was gone before he could even groan.

* * *

Leon was walking to his English class a while later, when he heard the sound behind him.

The corridor was full of people. There were students running every which way, late for class or headed to a locker or to meet their friends. But somehow, the brunet could tell that the sound of footsteps was headed straight towards him.

It didn't sound like the stride of any of his friends – Tifa's step was light and airy; Roxas' hard and determined; and Lulu never ran. For a hopeful moment, Leon imagined that it was Cloud's lightning pace; but this was different. This was a fleet and stealthy sound. It was getting closer every moment, and showed no signs of slowing down.

Leon stopped thinking and started to turn, expecting, naturally, that the footsteps would stop as they reached him.

They didn't. A black and tan shape whizzed past the corners of his eyes, and then all the breath was knocked out of him as the bullet hit.

"Augh!" Leon barely escaped falling to the ground. His arms instinctively came up around whatever had just jumped into them, which, as his vision cleared, resolved itself into . . .

" . . . Yuffie??"

The small girl stared up at him with a determined expression. She didn't seem to notice the confusion on his face, which was considerable for someone so normally impassive. Instead, Yuffie stepped without explanation out of Leon's arms, which fell to his sides. She took up a military stance, legs shoulder-width apart and hands clenched at her sides. The chocolate eyes squeezed shut.

Yuffie opened her mouth. "LEON, I WILL BE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!" she screamed to the corridor full of kids.

* * *

Leon thought that he must be dreaming. No, this had to be a nightmare. In a moment or two he would wake up, in his apartment, covered with sweat and sheets, ready to start the day anew. He waited for the vision to fade.

It didn't. Leon's mind went numb. The contents of the entire corridor had turned to watch him, and him alone.

"Yuffie . . . ?"

The junior tossed her short black hair and approached him. There was fierce resolve written on her face. "It's okay, Leon. You don't have to pretend. Tifa told me that you like me. I know that you were too shy to ask before. But . . . but, Leon, you don't have to worry. I like you too!" Her bright, joyous smile seemed to the stunned brunet like the crack of doom. "Yes, Leon! I will be your girlfriend! I will go out with you!"

Yuffie smiled like a sunbeam. It seemed as if half the school was there to watch. Through a haze, Leon saw a hundred students clapping their hands, whistling and calling. The corridor had erupted in cheers. The brunet began to hyperventilate; his vision was fading in and out. Yuffie's face was the only clear thing in his sight. That, too, disappeared after a second, as the forthright ninja jumped into his arms. The little body was soft and strange against his. He didn't know where to put his hands. He didn't know what was going on. The earth began to spin.

Yuffie stepped away from Leon just as he felt himself about to collapse. She didn't seem to notice at all the blankness on his face, or the sweat that was covering his entire body. The brunet was staring into space.

A fine-boned hand found its way into his and a perfect smile gleamed up at him, entirely ignorant. "Come on, Leon! We're going to be late to class!"

She dragged him all the way down the hall. She announced to her entire history class that they were dating. She convinced the teacher to let Leon sit in on that hour, asserting that the senior's teacher wouldn't mind. She held Leon's hand all through the lesson.

Leon thought he was going to die.

When the end of the day finally came, the tall teen could not have been more pleased. He had been turning over ideas in his head for hours – once the _oh my god this cannot be happening _had faded a bit from his thoughts – but just couldn't think of any way to let Yuffie down easy. His "girlfriend" looked so damn happy. She hadn't let go of his skin all day, and had barely let him say a word between the constant streams of talk about how cool it was that they were now together, and all the things they would do. Leon didn't want to disappoint her. She didn't deserve it. Still, he couldn't quite manage to return her smiles. _Kill Tifa. Kill! _his mind ranted to itself.

"Leon!" the junior grabbed at his hand, breaking him out of thought. "Listen, we're going out to karaoke after school. Do you want to come?" She answered herself before he could respond, since no-one ever talked fast enough for her: "That's great! I'm going to get my books. I'll see you in a couple minutes!" For an awful moment, the brunet thought that she was going to kiss him goodbye. Instead her supershort skirt flipped and twirled (giving a glimpse of katana-covered boyshorts), before the girl brushed past him and disappeared. Leon watched her go.

_How am I going to get out of this one?_

The boy leaned against the wall, thinking through a thunderous face. He couldn't dump Yuffie. Like any teenage chick, the girl had the self-esteem of a fruitfly; she would never get over the shame. It would seem as if he had played with her emotions. But he couldn't stay with her either – it wasn't right to deceive the girl like that, and he didn't feel anything when he looked at her body, exposed as it was. He couldn't change his feelings. Whatever the hell they were.

It was just then that he saw Cloud walking past.

"Cloud, wait!" Leon ran after the shape disappearing around a corner.

The world came into clearer focus as he moved, sharpening under the lens of those blue eyes. It was as if he had been living all day under a mist, one which had suddenly faded in the sun. He worried dimly about the effect that the blonde had on him: why he should feel so happy when he saw that spiky head, but so awkward when Yuffie held his hand.

Then he stopped – stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped caring. So he batted for the other team. What was so bad about that?

Cloud was still striding away. He was unaware of the revelations bubbling through Leon's mind, and kept walking even when the brunet called him, though there was no one else in the hallway and the senior's voice was loud. He didn't stop until Leon grabbed his shoulder from behind.

* * *

For the blonde, this whole day had been a nightmare. First, he had dropped his books coming into English class, and that scary, quiet Riku had had to pick them up. Then there had been pierogies for lunch, which he hated. Finally he had seen Leon and Yuffie together in the hall, hugging while half the school stood there and cheered . . . Cloud hadn't even known that Leon had a girlfriend. It made him hate the odd feeling that he had when he looked at the brunet. And now here was Leon, all alone, accosting him, and Cloud just knew he was going to say something he didn't want to say.

"Hi, Leon." He forced the words out.

"Cloud."

The tall senior came very close to him, looking down into his eyes. It felt as if Leon was searching for something in Cloud's face. The proximity made Cloud's cheeks turn red; then redder still, with anger at himself.

_Why? Why does he make me feel like this? Butterflies in the stomach, heat in my bones? And if – just if – but it wouldn't matter, because he's already attached!_

Leon's face was close. Too close. Cloud had to break the moment, had to say anything, anything at all. "So. You and Yuffie, huh?"

Leon stepped back as if slapped. The brunet's eyes widened. "Where did you hear that?"

"I saw you two in the halls", Cloud shrugged. His tone was perfectly even. His voice had managed to hide the turmoil taking place inside his chest; he smiled a little in success.

Leon saw the smile, and felt as if his heart had frozen. Cloud – Cloud liked that he and Yuffie were together? He was happy about that? Leon had meant to speak to him, to tell him the truth, and then ask . . . he didn't know what. But now it didn't matter. Cloud didn't mind that Yuffie was his "girlfriend".

"Yes," the brunet agreed, with a dead and frozen voice. "We're together." _I'm sorry, Cloud. I don't know why I thought you might feel the same. _

Leon was looking directly at the blonde. If he hadn't been, in that moment, he would have missed the flash of pure anguish that fled across Cloud's face.

But he was caught by sky eyes, and he saw. And something inside him glimmered with hope. "Cloud, I – I have to tell you –"

"LEON!!"

The voice came from far down the corridor. Before the echoes had even faded, something small and fast tackled the senior with all its strength, knocking him over instantly. He watched Cloud even as he fell, seeing the boy's surprised face – _mouth open, cheeks red, ocean eyes wide, beautiful_ – before his head hit the plastic. Then everything faded away.

Yuffie stood up, dusted herself off, and prodded her boyfriend's body with her toe. "Leon?"

There was no reply. The girl's brown eyes widened. "Leon!" She stepped back. "Oops. I must have hit him too hard . . ."

The little ninja turned towards Cloud. "Um. I'm sorry. I don't really know who you are, but, um, would you mind looking after Leon for a moment while I find someone to carry him? It shouldn't be long. We have a karaoke to catch."

After all that had happened in the last few minutes, Cloud didn't feel too steady on his feet himself. He should have said no. He really should have. But the butterflies that made odd feelings in his stomach rebelled.

"Sure." Yuffie scampered off down the corridor. Cloud sat down next to Leon's body.

The brunet looked almost like he was sleeping, with his limbs splayed in every which direction, and spikes of hair falling over his face. He looked peaceful – for once, the perpetual frown absent from his face. Cloud suddenly wondered if Leon did sleep like that. Then he told himself he shouldn't want to know.

"You're driving me crazy," he groaned to the prostrate shape. "I don't – I didn't want this. I hardly even know you! I don't understand what you're doing to me."

He wanted to touch the boy's skin, see if it felt as soft as it looked. His hand moved. It stopped halfway, as Cloud cursed himself, instead brushing hair out of Leon's eyes.

Gray eyes. They were so confusing when they were open, doing odd things to Cloud's thoughts. _Storm eyes,_ the blonde thought. _Comforting, just like the rain._

"I didn't ask for you," Cloud whispered, bending down. "I wish you would just stay away."

Leon's lips looked so soft. They were slightly open, relaxed in sleep. So many emotions swirled inside Cloud – anger, frustration, tenderness, fear. He didn't understand what was happening to him, so he didn't try to.

The boy bent one more inch.

* * *

It was several hours later that Leon woke up. He was back in his own bed, Yuffie's cloak spread over him and a note on the bedside table. -_Leon – sorry about the concussion! Honestly, you're such a lightweight. I picked your lock to get you inside; hope you don't mind. I promise I did not ravish you in your sleep. Although it was hard to resist. See you tomorrow!-_

The brunet laughed, softly. If nothing else, Yuffie seemed like she would be a very good friend. If he ever figured all this out. He rolled over to get comfortable again on the pillow, suddenly very tired.

Leon stopped, one hand raised. Instead of adjusting the covers, he touched his face. There was an odd feeling on his lips. He ran his tongue over the skin – like saltwater, he thought; either rain or tears.

As if someone had kissed him goodbye.


	3. Teaser!

**Chapter 3 Teaser**

Due to finals and a 300-some mile bike trip immediately following, Chapter 3 will likely not be up for quite a while. So, I'm posting a teaser of the next chapter now, mostly to alleviate my guilt. And remember – reviews make me write! 

"CLOUD! WAKE UP!"

The covers were wrenched off the curled shape in its too-large bed. An excited hand grabbed pyjama'd shoulders. "Come onnnnnn, Cloud, don't you want to see your mom?"

The shape curled tighter. Its mental processes sounded somewhat like: _ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . ._ until the words sunk in. _ughhhhhhh wait mom??_

Cloud Strife shot up in bed. His eyes became round earths of blue as he took in the figure hopping around his bed. "MOM! What – what are you doing here? How are you home? I thought you were still in Kenya!"

"I closed the deal early!" his mother sang, twirling from dirty shirt to dirty sock and throwing each one into a hamper beside the door. She stopped beside Cloud and tweaked a hair out of his eyes. The boy flinched: did normal mothers _move_ this much? Belle Strife was a global business manager. She was able to speak about 15 languages, and had been leaving almost constantly on trips since Cloud's parents' divorce when he was twelve. She was also originally American, from a little town in Tennessee. Cloud had often wondered if everyone in Tennessee were as ADD as she was – no wonder America got so much done.

"Honey, aren't you happy to see me?" Belle asked, bringing her forehead flush against his. Brown eyes squinted seriously into blue. "Because, I mean, if you're not, I could always go stay with your dad . . . "

"Mom," the sophomore groaned. "Of course I'm glad you're here! I was just surprised. Anyways, normal parents do not go to live with their divorced partners when they have a day off!"

His mother shrugged. "I don't see why not. He's still hot . . ." Over Cloud's choked sputters, she picked up a book from the floor. "Crime and Punishment? Since when do you read this? I thought you were a fan of romance."

Cloud turned as red as a cherry cough drop. Why, why did his mother always make him feel like he was five again? And he thought he had hidden his – hem – occasional preference for maybe a book with maybe a little kissing in it and maybe a little more than kissing and maybe – well, it didn't make him any less macho! And his mother could just realize that she was raising a real man, who was perfectly capable of failing to pick up his own clothing, and didn't really need to know about his own mother's sex life with his own father and . . .

The sophomore's annoyed thoughts trailed off as he actually focused on the book in his mother's hands. She was right; it wasn't his. It belonged to – it belonged to Leon . . . suddenly the events of the past day came back to him with a dull and hollow thud. Cloud dropped back onto the bed. Leon's book. Leon – the new boyfriend of Yuffie Sato.

"Cloud?" Belle Strife stopped halfway around the room. Something was wrong; her mother-senses were tingling. She moved over and peered into her son's distant eyes. The boy's fine features had fallen into despair.

Now this look she hadn't seen before! Interested, the brown-haired woman examined her child closely, checking off items in her mind. Slumped form – check. Downturned lips. Wistful crease on the forehead, definitely. Melting blue eyes.

Belle's mouth dropped open. "CLOUD STRIFE! YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!"


End file.
